


Beef Sandwiches and Other Things Dorian Pavus Learned to Enjoy in Fereldan

by taispeantas_laethuil



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: BDSM, Bizarre Qunari Biology, Knotting, M/M, Multi, Porn, Sex Magic, Sex Toys, Threesome, Unrealistic Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-03 22:36:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6629782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taispeantas_laethuil/pseuds/taispeantas_laethuil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A place to dump the M!Adaar/Dorian Pavus/Iron Bull smut I've been writing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Feast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spit roasting

It takes time for men as well endowed as the Bull and Adaar to become fully erect. Dorian doesn't mind. When he's with one or the other that means he has time to explore, to map out the ridges slowly appearing in their foreskin, the flare of the head of their cocks, the swell of their knots, the heft of their balls. When all three of them are together, it means that he's sometimes so fucked out before he can be fucked that it doesn't seem possible for him to come again without a week's bed rest. Most of the time, he ends up coming again anyway.  
  
Other times, it's like this: a note will come from Adaar, or the Bull will drop by, and tell him to swing by Adaar's quarters after sundown- and only after the sun has gone completely down.  
  
He'll comply, of course, because he knows that when he does arrive, he'll find two Qunari intertwined on the bed, achingly hard and waiting for him.  
  
Sometimes it's a show: Dorian will shed his clothing and touch himself, watching them rut together until he's hard too- until he's come for the first time that night. Other times it's a game: the Bull will tell him how to touch himself, or tell him to mirror the touches he's driving Adaar wild with.  
  
Other times, it's like this.  
  
The Bull growls at him to strip before he's even cleared the stairs. Adaar's smile is a predatory baring of teeth. From there it takes a maximum of five minutes for Dorian to join them on the bed, his hands tied securely behind his back, a blindfold over his eyes, his throat being fucked with Adaar's cock and his ass being fucked with the Bull's fingers.  
  
They've been doing this _something_ for a terrifyingly long time. They know each other by now. They know Dorian. They know how much he enjoys it, the rough handling which nearly tears his hair out at the roots, the way his air gets cut off and his jaw aches. They know how he craves the pleasure/pain of being stretched just enough not to tear, to feel blunt-clawed fingers digging bruises into his hips.  
  
They know, and they think him magnificent for it. The novelty hasn't worn off yet: he's always known he is magnificent, but he isn't used to people agreeing with him.

Dorian was half hard with anticipation when he arrived. Now, with the Bull just pressing his way in- slow, but relentless- he's on the verge of orgasm.  
  
He moans around Adaar's cock. Chokes a little when Adaar shifts his grip so as to brace his jaw open.  
  
"Come as often as you can," he invites Dorian with a small laugh that's just a little cruel. Dorian moans again. "Just know that we're not touching your cock tonight."  
  
"We're going to fuck you open," the Bull says. Dorian can feel the swell of his knot pressing against his hole. He can feel the swell of Adaar's knot against his lips as Adaar pulls him all the way down his shaft and holds him there. "Then we're going to play with you- see what toys you like sucking on, how wide you can spread yourself on them."  
  
"If you're good, maybe we'll fuck around with you until you can't come anymore, instead of leaving you hard and aching," Adaar says. It's his most threatening tone of voice.  
  
"Maybe we'll leave you plugged up while you sleep," the Bull adds. "So when we wake up we can slide right in."  
  
Dorian shudders violently as he comes. It use to embarrass him, how quickly they could make him do that. Now, as Adaar thrusts shallowly in his mouth a few times before thrusting back into his throat, and the Bull begins pounding into him from behind with heavy thrusts which only drive him deeper onto Adaar's cock, he takes it as the blessing it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the [prompt](http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/15866.html?thread=60271098#t60271098): "I'm an anon of simple pleasures and simple prompts, I just want our lovely Dorian in a Qunari sandwich."
> 
> I am an author of simple pleasures and fills which have a tendency to spiral rapidly out of control. Thankfully, that didn't happen this time.


	2. Anatomy Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby's first blowjob.

Fun fact: Dorian was the one who gave him his first blowjob.

“Shit, really?” The Bull sounded as delighted as Dorian looked, and Dorian’s face was lit up like a child in a sweetshop.

Dorian was also completely naked and kneeling between his legs, a hand braced on each of his thighs. The Bull was sitting behind him, his breath hot on Adaar’s neck.

“I’m not exactly small,” he said, mostly managing not to squeak. “People get intimidated.”

Dorian chuckled breathily. Adaar could feel it on his cock.

“I didn’t think humans could actually, you know…” he continued.

“Swallow?” Dorian suggested in an all-too-innocent tone of voice, looking up at him through his eyelashes coquettishly.

The Iron Bull laughed, and pressed up behind him, his thighs bracketing Adaar’s, and his erection pressing against him. “That feel little to you?” he asked. “He can take it, I promise.”

“I think I’ll be doing the taking here,” Dorian said, tilting his head back and up so Adaar’s length rubbed along his cheek, catching along his mustache and the corner of his mouth. The Bull was still a wall of heat behind him, and his hand tightened around his hips and held them down.

Sweet Maker, but he was going to spontaneously combust.

“Fuck,” he hissed. He bunched the sheets in between his fingers. The Bull had told him to keep his hands there, and he was grateful for that now. He knew where to hang on. “I- _fuck_!”

The Bull had moved one of his hands- the one not missing any fingers, fuck if he knew which way was right or left at this point- from Adaar’s hip and over to his cock. His palm skimmed briefly over Adaar’s knot, and then his fingers closed around the base, between it and his balls, preventing him from getting any harder.

“Fuck,” Adaar repeated, his voice cracking.

“You don’t want this to be over too quickly, do you?” the Bull asked rhetorically.

“If I’m going to be the one to introduce you to the joys of fellatio, I insist that I make a very thorough introduction,” Dorian agreed.

After a long moment, Adaar realized that they were waiting for him to say yes, so he bobbed his head up and down. Dorian’s grin turned wicked as he smeared his mouth along Adaar’s shaft, and then he really got started.

Adaar wasn’t a virgin. He’d had sex before, a couple of regular partners, more one-night stands. He knew how sex worked with qunari, and between qunari and humans, even. He’d just never had anyone who wanted to go down on him before, let alone someone who was as enthusiastic about it as Dorian. That made it different, somehow. Made it seem new.

Dorian started by planting open-mouthed kisses up and down his shaft his tongue flicking along the ridges that had just started to form on his foreskin. Then he closed his lips around the head of his cock, the tip of his tongue tracing delicate patterns, teasing his slit before he started to suck.

He cheeks hollowed, and the Bull relinquished the grip on his cock for a moment: Adaar’s eyes nearly rolled back in his head.  He let out a truly pathetic whimper when the Bull tightened his fingers around his cock once again, and Dorian pulled off with an obscene pop.

“Don’t worry,” Dorian said, giving his thighs a squeeze. “We’ll take care of you.”

The Bull rumbled in agreement, nipping down the side of his neck as Dorian got back to work, taking him deeper and deeper into his mouth, his lips red and swollen from sliding up and down Adaar’s cock. Dorian pulled off again, shifted position a bit, and then took him into his throat as the Bull’s grip went slack once more. It stayed loose for much longer than a moment, and this time when his grip tightened again and Dorian pulled off his cock was dripping with pre-come.

Dorian curled two of his fingers around where the head of his cock met his foreskin, collecting the pre-come that was seeping out. He ran them down his own dick, his legs spreading wide to give them the best view as he stroked himself.

“He’s such a pretty sight, isn’t he?” the Bull murmured, as Dorian returned to bobbing his head up and down Adaar’s length, still touching himself.

“Yeah,” Adaar rasped. If the Bull let him go now, he’d probably come in under a minute. The Bull would let him go if he asked, but if he let them continue on, they’d probably make him come harder than he’d ever come in his life. “Yeah. He’s very pretty.”

Dorian moaned his approval around his cock and Andraste’s tittyfuck that felt great.

“If I let go of your hips to try something, will you be able to sit still?” the Bull asked him.

Adaar nodded.

The Bull moved his hand from Adaar’s hips into Dorian’s hair. Dorian stilled immediately, his free hand falling from Adaar’s thigh. Adaar whined at the loss.

“You keep touching yourself,” the Bull said, and then pulled on Dorian’s hair until his lips were pressed up against Adaar’s knot.

“Fuck!” Adaar yelled. Dorian moaned his agreement around him, as the Bull began to fuck his face on Adaar’s cock. His hand was still moving over his own cock as he looked up at them with half-lidde bedroom eyes, and Adaar had no words for this. There were no words to describe how it felt to sit between them and come undone one inch at a time.

“If I let go of your cock, how soon do you think you would come?” the Bull asked him.

“Fast,” Adaar gasped. “Like, really, really fast.”

“You know about this trick already, right?” the Bull asked, shifting his grip so that he was fisting Adaar’s knot. Suddenly his grip wasn’t an obstacle between him and orgasm but a fucking tidal wave driving him towards it.

Adaar screaming as the Bull pulled Dorian’s head back. Dorian’s tongue darted out, trying to catch onto his cock; the head flared out, the ridges began to deflate one by one and his knot swelled in the Bull’s fist, trying to tie into it as he came and came and came into Dorian’s open mouth.

Eventually it ended, Adaar shaking in the Bull’s arms as Dorian knelt between his legs, looking smug.

“Do you, uh,” Adaar managed. “Do you want me to return to favor?”

“Way ahead of you, I’m afraid,” Dorian said, showing him his come-streaked hand.

“You want to lick that clean for him?” the Bull suggested.

“Well, I do now,” Adaar said.

Dorian clambered onto the bed, watching raptly as Adaar licked across his palm and sucked each individual finger clean. Then Adaar watched raptly as the Bull spread his legs and pressed two oil-slicked fingers inside. Dorian groaned, his eyes fluttering closed as he pressed down.

“What do you think, kadan?” the Bull said. “Is tonight the night we beat three times?”

“I can help there,” Adaar said.

“Oh?” Dorian asked.

“Yeah,” Adaar replied, waggling his fingers a little.

Dorian chuckled. “Do your worst.”

Adaar wrapped his fingers around Dorian’s cock and focused his healing magic on it.

“ _Fasta vass_ ,” Dorian fairly shrieked, one legs kicking out as his cock began to stir.

“Shit yeah!” the Bull crowed, his hand moving.

Dorian arched into his grip, his toes curling. Adaar summoned some lubrication into his hand so that Dorian wouldn’t chaff himself, and watched him shudder.

There was something very satisfying about watching Dorian come apart, after he’d taken Adaar apart so thoroughly not so long ago.

“My record’s seven,” Adaar mentioned.

“Fuck,” Dorian said sincerely. “Fuck yes.”

“Oh, this is going to be _great_ ,” the Bull enthused.


	3. Helpless/Satisfied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian likes being helpless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This porn involves a scenario where Dorian in unable to withdraw consent. While consent is given, and all parties involved have fun, it's not particularly safe and that might push this particular chapter out of enjoyable territory for some. If this will trigger you- or you just won't enjoy it- please feel free to skip, I won't be offended, promise.

The drug was potent, for what it did: three drops was all it took to take someone of Dorian’s size down. The Bull mixed it with magebane, enough to keep a mage of Dorian’s skill out for the count for eight hours. Dorian knocked it back with a melodramatic shudder.   
  
“Ghastly,” he proclaimed.   
  
Adaar laughed and replaced the drug with a goblet of wine. Dorian drank that too, eager to get the taste out of his mouth, eager to have something to too while he waited for the drugs to take hold of him. A bit of nervousness, but more anticipation than anything else: nothing that made the Bull feel like he should pull back a bit.  
Good.   
  
Dorian had asked for this- begged for it, prettily, a fantasy first spun to Adaar who had made him recount it for the Bull while he was on his knees, his cock bound, untouched and purpling between his legs, the Bull’s belt around his neck and his claw marks on his back, Adaar’s come dripping out of his ass: _What do you want more than you want to come right now?_  
  
Dorian had spilled all the details to the Bull, the words whispering breathily over the cock that had just spent down his throat: _helpless, helpless, helpless_.   
  
From that moment on, it had been the Bull’s fantasy too, something dark and private and nurtured in secret, suckled on moments between then and now: he and Adaar doing their best to make Dorian use his safeword, again and again, so they would be able to recognize signs of distress, cuddling Dorian between them as his body worked through its first experience with the drug, hours of training and testing to find every limit he had.   
  
All leading up to this: Dorian, cherished, treasured, and normally so damn competent, completely and willingly at their mercy, with no way out.   
  
When Dorian slumped over, he was nerveless, but not unconscious. Adaar took care of that, crooning in broken Qunlat as he compelled Dorian to sleep with his magic.   
  
He’d stay out until Adaar let the spell lapse, or dispelled it manually, no matter what was being done to him. They’d tested that, a lot.   
  
“Can I?” Adaar asked him.   
  
“Yeah,” the Bull replied. “You get him undressed, I’ll lay out the stuff for you.”  
  
The stuff was as follows.   
  
A blindfold, tailor made so that no light could possibly enter once it was on. Plugs for his ears, enchanted to let in no sound. A gag, such as it was, metal fitted to keep his jaw opened wide enough to take fingers and cocks and toys. Ropes, sturdy and covered in plush red velvet, that were strong enough to support Dorian’s weight should they choose to sling him up.   
  
They probably would. When they’d gone looking for a place to have these kind of getaways, that sturdy hook above the bed had drawn the Bull’s eye immediately.   
  
There were plenty of other toys, but they could wait. Adaar had Dorian undressed and laid out on the bed, and that was a lot more important.  
  
They hadn’t fucked on the way down here. They’d barely touched, letting the anticipation drag out. The Bull was surprised to see that Dorian had shaved: he supposed that was an invitation, and made a mental note to pull some of the candles out later.   
  
For now though, he looked his fill, as Adaar prettied him up. His mouth opened wide, his hands bound tightly from wrist to elbows behind his back, his legs spread and tied thigh to ankle, his cock just beginning to stir as he was manhandled into place… Dorian was always pretty, but like this, he was resplendent.   
  
There were a lot of loose ends in the ropes after all the knots were in place. That was deliberate, so they could tied him into different positions as the night wore on. For now, they left the ropes from his legs trail on the bed, and looped the ones from his arms up onto the hook, so that he was more or less kneeling upright.   
  
“Should I wake him now?” Adaar asked. “Or should I make him come a few times first.” His fingers sparked.   
  
The Bull grinned. “Wake him,” he said, settling behind Dorian on the bed. He wrapped one of his hands around Dorian’s throat, so he could feel his pulse- so he could cut off his air. “And then make him come until he cries.”

* * *

 

Dorian awoke and he couldn’t move, couldn’t see, couldn’t hear. There was perhaps half a second of panic before he remembered, no more than that: the Bull had insisted on testing this drug on him numerous times before, so that he would know what to expect. His limbs were heavy and unresponsive beneath the ropes. His eyes were closed, and covered with a blindfold as well. His ears were plugged, with specially enchanted sponges that the dwarves used for mining. He couldn’t move, see, or hear.   
  
What he could do was feel: the way the ropes bit into his arms, the way drool dribbled out of his mouth, the way the Bull had a hand wrapped around his throat- not pressing in, not cutting off his air, merely present.  
  
For now. That would change he was sure.   
  
He felt a shiver of fear, and welcomed it. He’d asked for this, ultimately, because he trusted them to hurt and terrify him, to let him feel fear and pain, and not think any less of him for it.   
  
The bed shifted- Adaar?- and Dorian could neither guess what was coming or brace himself for it. He was completely out of control, and it was terrifying. He couldn’t help the way his stomach clenched any more than he could help the way his cock twitched against his thigh.   
  
There was some rumbling as the Bull and Adaar spoke to one another. Dorian could feel the vibrations, but couldn’t parse the words. Then the first jolt of electricity hit.   
  
Dorian came messily. Before he had even finished, Adaar took him in hand, and Dorian could feel the familiar tingle of healing magic as it took care of any damage and prepared him for the next jolt. 

It came less than a minute later, with much the same effect as the first.   
  
It must be said that Dorian had never known anyone who wielded lightning- or any kind of magic, for that matter- with as much precision as Adaar. He knew exactly where to direct it to knock an enemy out or deliver a clean kill, to cause intense pain or immense pleasure. When Adaar had told him that he could make a man come simply by directing a bolt to the right cluster of nerves, Dorian hadn’t believed him. He’d then spent a very intense night tied to the bed as Adaar alternately healed and shocked him. By the time the Bull had finished up his paperwork and come to join them, he’d been one raw nerve. Every touch had felt like a brand: the stretch of taking them both at once had been an almost transcendental agony.   
  
He hadn’t been able to stop smiling for days afterwards.  
  
 _They mean to do that again,_ Dorian realized. _They mean to start with that._  
  
For an indeterminable length of time, the world narrowed. The Bull’s hand was around his neck. Adaar’s magic ripped pleasure from him. He was between them, an object to project their desires upon. They were merciless, and he was helpless.   
  
He couldn’t even scream. His vocal chords had been paralyzed with all the rest. He could feel the need to building in his chest, rising steadily until seemed to press against his eyeballs. He couldn’t sob either, but tears could still form. They clumped his eyelashes, soaked into his blindfold, and finally rolled down his face.

Adaar kissed him beneath each eye as he applied his healing magic. Behind him, the Bull rumbled, nuzzling his hair. Dorian recognized those touches- they told him that he was doing good, that they were pleased with him. He had no way of responding, and wouldn’t for hours. He simply had to bear it the way he would bear everything else they did to him.   
  
Eventually, Adaar left, the bed shifting with the lack of his weight. Around his neck, the Bull’s hand flexed. He rumbled something to Adaar, but if Adaar replied, he was too far away for Dorian to feel his response. Instead the next thing he felt was the Bull’s hand- his hot heavy hand, that Dorian could have sworn had left a mark simply by being there- tightened around his throat at last.   
  
Dorian’s cock fairly leapt at the sensation. The Bull shifted his grip so that his thumb was pressed in against Dorian’s windpipe and _oh_ …  
  
The euphoria of strangulation was magnified by the complete lack of distraction, by the way there was nothing but sensation, that he was nothing but sensation. Adaar had scraped back all his protection, and now the draft from the floo felt like a lover’s caress, and the Bull’s hand felt like fire.   
  
It was like the Bull was burning the air in his lungs away, and Dorian’s heart was thundering as a result of Adaar’s lightning.   
  
The Bull released his hold as Adaar returned to the bed. Dorian took two gasping breaths of air, tears still rolling down his cheeks. Then the Bull tilted his head back, and shoved a dildo down through the hole in his gag into his throat.   
  
Dorian choked. He couldn’t help himself. The drug had robbed him of most of his ability to suppress his gag reflex as well. He wouldn’t vomit, he was fairly certain of that, but getting face-fucked like this was bound to be messy and unpleasant.   
  
It would scrape his throat raw. It would wreck his voice for days afterwards. Every time he spoke or swallowed would remind him of this.   
  
Dorian couldn’t groan when Adaar began licking him clean. He couldn’t squirm as he felt his tongue, normally pleasantly textured but now chaffing, coil around his cock. He could do nothing but take it: take the toy into his throat, take two of Adaar’s oil-slicked fingers up his arse, take the firing of his gag reflex and the stirring of his cock and the tears still falling, trying to purge him of all the things he couldn’t express.   
  
There was nothing to do, but to surrender to it. Dorian gave himself over to the sensation and let it carry him away.

* * *

 

Dorian had come once again, and was half hard when the Bull asked him “Do you think he’s ready?”   
  
“I think so,” Adaar replied. He withdrew his fingers from Dorian’s ass and the Bull withdrew the toy from Dorian’s mouth and pressed it inside, so as to keep him stretched open.   
  
They moved Dorian so that he was kneeling on the floor, still attached to the hook over the bed. They settled down on the edge of the bed, facing him.  
  
“After you, boss,” the Bull said, so Adaar took Dorian by the hair and shoved his mouth down over Adaar’s cock.   
  
Dorian choked, and choked again as he withdrew slightly. He almost never did that. He’d gotten together with the Bull first, which meant that he was used to being face-fucked with bigger cocks than Adaar’s. It took a lot to get his wrecked enough to choke on cock, and even then, it was normally only once or twice at the very beginning, an expression of surprise more than anything else.   
  
Now Dorian choked with every thrust in and every drag out. He choked as Adaar rocked his head shallowly back and forth and choked when he pulled it all the way down until his lips were pressed against his knot, and kept choking as Adaar held him down there, keeping up a mental count of the seconds.   
  
Shit, if this was how he reacted to Adaar’s cock, then…  
  
“Let’s keep him guessing,” Adaar said, pulling Dorian off his dick and tilting him towards the Bull.   
  
“Don’t mind if I do,” the Bull said, taking Dorian from him.   
  
He thrust in slowly, shallowly. Dorian still choked beautifully.   
  
Adaar watched, pumping his cock slowly using Dorian’s spittle as lubrication. It looked incredible, the way Dorian’s lips stretched obscenely around the Bull’s thick cock, the way his own cock twitched and dripped precome onto his legs and the floor. There was a slackness to his body that they could rarely get him to achieve on their own, and sense of surrender. He wondered if Dorian felt as peaceful as he looked. He didn’t _sound_ peaceful. He sounded used and filthy and conquered, especially with the way his choking was interspaced with the Bull’s growls.   
  
“You getting close, boss?” the Bull asked with a groan.   
  
“Yeah,” Adaar replied. He was panting a little. “Yeah.”  
  
The Bull pulled Dorian off of his cock and tilted him towards Adaar. Adaar took his head and positioned it so that the head of his cock was rest in Dorian’s mouth. He held Dorian’s head still and began thrusting in earnest, standing up as he started snapping his hips back and forth. He came down Dorian’s throat, and Dorian choked on that too.   
  
He collapsed back on the bed and lazily handed Dorian back to the Bull. This time there was nothing slow or shallow about the way he fucked Dorian’s face: he used the deep, brutal pace that he normally reserved for when they were playing games: the cruel arvaarad and his obedient saarebas breaking in a new charge, the near-feral Tal-Vashoth ravishing their prize without mercy, the dastardly raider and his helpless captives, the evil magister and his favored bodyguard with a new plaything.  
  
Though, generally it was Adaar getting fucked within an inch of his life in that last scenario. It wasn’t something he usually craved- he would be obedient, but he enjoyed dishing out pain and sensation far more than he enjoyed taking it. Dorian was the opposite: he enjoyed being overwhelmed and held down and tormented, but he didn’t like following orders.   
  
This was the extreme of that, but extreme had always been in their repertoires.   
  
The Bull didn’t come down Dorian’s throat. Instead he pulled out, using the grip he had on his hair to tilt Dorian’s head back. The gag held his mouth open as the Bull came, his other hand squeezing his knot tightly, thick spurts of white occasionally catching on the edges of his lips and mustache, but mostly landing on his tongue.   
  
Adaar couldn’t get hard again so quickly, not even with his magic, but he ached with how much he wanted it.

They moved Dorian again, taking him down from the hook over the bed, and attaching his ankles with a spreader bar, then tying them to the bedposts along the length of the bed. His hands were retied, so that they were bound together at the wrist above his head, and then were fastened to the baseboard of the other side of the bed. It kept him bent over the edge of the bed, with his legs spread, with no chance of falling.   
  
The Bull settled on the bed next to Dorian, one hand resting on his neck. He’d watch for any signs of distress that made it through the drug, let Adaar know if he was going too far.   
  
Adaar went over to his bag of toys and selected a paddle. Pain. That was the next item on the agenda. The kind of serious, deep bruising and welt-leaving in pain they generally had to avoid because Dorian needed to be fighting fit. There was his healing magic, of course, and health potions, but somehow it just seemed better that they save this for special occasions when they knew that they had time to let the pain fade on its own.   
  
It was Dorian’s preference too. He liked being dealt the pain, but he liked to let it linger more: to have marks he could see in the mirror, to feel them pressed against days-old bruises and freshen them up a little.   
  
They had time for that now. A little vacation in a little cabin that could be reached by Inquisition scouts within an hour if needed, but was otherwise remote and secluded from the rest of the world.   
  
Still, they’d done this kind of thing often enough before that it felt weird to strike Dorian and not hear him cry out, to watch him squirm under his blows. He felt himself almost slip into the mindset of a healer, cataloguing the way his skin reddened and his breath hitched. He fell into a rhythm of blows over his thighs and buttocks, glancing occasionally over at the Bull to see if he felt Adaar was going too far.   
  
The Bull always nodded.   
  
He moved onto the riding crop next, snapping it along the inside of Dorian’s thighs. It forced him to pay close attention to Dorian’s cock. It had been swollen and dripping with precome when they’d hauled him up on the bed. It was still like that.   
  
He could normally come from being face fucked, with a little verbal encouragement. He’d even come while being roughed around like this before. But right now Dorian couldn’t hear, couldn’t grind his hips down against the mattress for some relief, simply had to lay there and take what Adaar gave him.   
  
“You’re growling, boss,” the Bull pointed out, sounding amused.   
  
“He’s hard and leaking,” Adaar informed him with sadistic glee. He didn’t bother to hide it. They’d had him at _I will conquer you_ , and they knew it. “And he can’t do a thing about it.”  
  
“Are you going to do anything about it?” the Bull asked. It was an honest question, asked without judgment.  
  
“No. Let him suffer a bit for now,” Adaar replied.

The riding crop left small bruises on the inside of his thighs, perfect for digging their claws into later. The flogger he choose next raised a pleasant sort of heat along his back, and deepened the marks on his ass. He alternated those strikes with soft, trailing touches: along his shoulder, down his thighs, between his legs, against his cock. Dorian’s breath hitched at those soft touches differently than it did for blows.   
  
He saved the cane for last. It would leave the starkest marks, he knew, though he would have to hit harder- and more carefully- to make them stand out against his already bruised and tender skin. Adaar didn’t really mind doing that. Dorian didn’t ever mind taking it.   
  
The Bull nodded every time he looked over at him, and when Adaar finally judged for himself that he'd had enough and put down the cane, his shoulder aching from the repetitive motion, Dorian was well on his way to being a canvass of marks.   
  
And he knew exactly how to hurry that along.   
  
“You’re healing him?” the Bull asked, as Adaar summoned some magic into his hands and began to rub them over Dorian, starting at his shoulders.   
  
“Not really,” Adaar said. “I’m increasing the blood flow, so they bruise more readily.”  
  
The Bull let out something like a purr, and Adaar knew exactly what he meant.

* * *

 

They left him alone for a long time after that, or so Dorian supposed. Time was not something he had any concrete way of measuring as he was, so he merely floated high on the pain and the pleasure, unable to tug at his bonds to ground himself, unable to call out for reassurance, unable to hear it even if it was offered. So, floating it was then, higher and higher, waiting to be- hoping to be- yanked back down. Eventually he stopped crying. Eventually, his cock began to soften.   
  
And then, eventually, they returned.   
  
They had clearly planned their move before they made it. It was coordinated: in very short order Dorian found himself fully back on the bed, his wrists once more attached to the hook over the bed, his legs bound to his torso so that his knees were up by his ears.   
  
He knew that position intimately, and his heart skipped a beat: he’d been right, they were going to-  
  
His train of thought was torn apart when he was shoved on his knees, face down on the bed. The ropes pulled at his bruised back, stinging hotly, while Adaar’s already slicked fingers fumbled for the edge of the dildo around equally battered buttocks. He managed to emit a breathless “hhgnnnnnnn” noise as Adaar twisted the toy at just the right angle to make his cock jump. The drug must have been wearing off. Or the sensation was that intense. It hurt, but it was a good hurt, with the right kind of pain.  
  
It had bothered him once, that pain felt good sometimes. He worried that it pointed to some kind of underlying tendency towards self-destruction, or worse, a predisposition towards blood magic. He worried that it meant that there was something wrong with him, some creeping rot festering inside.   
  
Or, well. He worried whenever he wasn’t attempting to simultaneously press down upon the bruises left by some hurried tryst and masturbate to the thoughts of a more prolonged session with a more competent lover.   
  
It was all water under the bridge now. Bull had taken him to bed with the firm belief that one’s preferences in bed were no more indicative of anything than their preferences for food or drink or clothing, and had invited him to consider that point of view carefully. Both he and Adaar treated Dorian’s desire for this- and, more importantly, his desire to do this with them- as a precious gift.

And now he was between them. He could smell the Bull’s musk and feel the heat of his thigh as he entwined his fingers in Dorian’s hair and guided his mouth onto his cock. Behind him, he could feel the thrusting of the toy, and the trickling of cool oil as Adaar prepared him.   
  
The Bull wasn’t fully hard yet, or so Dorian thought- his foreskin wasn’t rigid enough. Adaar was, however, and his discarded the toy and pressed in within the minute, sharp staccato thrusts that went deeper and deeper every time he thrust in. Dorian could feel the Bull’s foreskin tightening against his tongue, the ridges becoming more defined. His own cock was hardening rapidly too, and he could feel the first droplets of pre-come sliding down his shaft. A few more thrusts from Adaar and he would-  
  
The Bull rumbled something, and Adaar slid a finger into him alongside his cock, dragging the pad of it against Dorian’s prostate. He came. He may have even managed to moan with it, but the sound was lost amid the choking as the Bull held him so that his cock was sheathed in Dorian’s throat up to the knot.   
  
Both he and Adaar pulled out at the same time, leaving him bereft and panicky. For a moment he was sure they were leaving him again, and then he was shoved upright, and then lifted into the air as Adaar and the Bull shifted together, legs entangled so they could align their cocks with his hole.   
  
Adaar took him first again, grinding Dorian down on his cock until he was completely inside, his hands bracing Dorian’s thighs as Dorian tried to summon to muscular coordination to clench around his knot. The Bull pressed a finger in as well, and then two, scissoring lazily. Then he was lifted up again, until only the head of Adaar’s cock remained inside. The blunt head of the Bull’s dick pressed against his entrance, and then in his entrance, and then Dorian was being lowered down again.   
  
It was not gentle. It was agonizing: the stretch of his hole, the drag of their cocks along the bruises they’d made, the sensation of being too full, the relentless pressure forcing him to take more and more. That too was the right kind of pain. Adaar’s healing magic sparked, just enough to allow his cock to harden once more, as it was aching to do, and it wasn’t long after that when he came again.

* * *

 

They all experienced drops in different ways.   
  
Dorian’s had been pretty bad, at first: all the Tevinter shit about wanting guys, especially wanting guys the way he did, had been compounded by the way he’d had no concept of aftercare. He’d been braced for ridicule, actually, which had made trying to take care of him a bit like cuddling a bruised cactus that kept unintentionally punching him in the heart, but it had been worth it. Dorian’s drops had lessened in intensity and frequency until it was mainly just a matter of several minutes’ worth of pleased murmured and skin-to-skin contact to gentle him back down to reality.   
  
It gave him the tools to deal with _their_ drops in turn. The Bull didn’t get them very often, but when they happened to him they were bad. There were a couple of days after the Storm Coast where Dorian was the only thing between him and a nervous breakdown. The boss’ drops weren’t as intense, no matter which side of things he was on, but they were more regular, and it didn’t seem like there was a thing either he or Dorian could do to prevent them.   
  
They could make Adaar forget that he was the Inquisitor for a time, but the rest of the world had a way of closing in on him as soon as they were done.   
  
“Everything look okay down there?”  
  
Adaar was cleaning Dorian up with a warm, wet towel, and had been wiping away between Dorian’s buttocks for the better part of a minute. Either something had gone horribly wrong and neither he nor Dorian had noticed, or Adaar was just worried that he’d crossed a line.   
  
It was a more pertinent worry tonight than other nights, but there was nothing in the way Dorian was draped over him that spoke of distress or discomfort. The Bull could feel his smile against his chest, and as Adaar made one final pass over his thighs he made a pleased kind of crooning noise.   
  
Yeah, this was just Adaar’s problem here.  
  
The drug had made his movements clumsy and he probably wouldn’t be able to enunciate properly for another hour or so. Still, if Dorian wasn’t happy, he was grounded enough by now to make his displeasure known.   
  
“Just making sure,” he said, going to toss the towel away.   
  
The Bull leaned over and captured his hand by the wrist as soon as it was free. “You did good, boss,” he told him. “See?”  
  
He ran Adaar’s hand over Dorian’s body, letting him feel the heat of the bruises still forming, the way Dorian squirmed and hissed in a way they both knew was good. The Bull watched as some of the tension that had been gathering between his shoulders fell away.  
  
Before their vacation was over- before the bruises had time to fade- they would have to tie Dorian down with just enough slack to let him squirm and dribble hot wax over his ass and thighs. But for now, he tugged at Adaar until he was spooned against Dorian’s side. Dorian made a contented hum and flopped an arm out to put his hand over theirs.   
  
This was good. They were good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the [prompt](http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/16181.html?thread=62172469#t62172469) which read: "So basically someone, whether it's Quizzy or someone from the Inner Circle (but not Cole), bound and gagged and blindfolded, ears plugged, can't move a muscle, can't do anything but just lay there, preferably with him being continuously used as a helpless fucktoy. Could be consensual with a lover, or forced upon him by kidnappers or something. As long as he's totally helpless and at someone's mercy. Or multiple someones.
> 
> Bonus Points for: Thoughts of the person this is happening to; the sensations, whether he's aroused or pissed off or afraid, etc.
> 
> Double Bonus Points for: Thoughts of the person doing this to him; how he looks, what he must be feeling, etc.
> 
> Triple Bonus Points for: Detailing the process of him being bound up."


End file.
